


the easiest thing in the world

by KrastBannert



Series: The Good, the Bad, and the Life in Between [6]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Introspection, Moral Dilemmas, Post-Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders, Underage Drinking, difficult conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28813605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrastBannert/pseuds/KrastBannert
Summary: It was such a simple question, something he should have thought of long before. But it takes Zuko actuallysaying itfor him to start thinking about it.What are you gonna do when you face my father?When Zuko comes to him, Aang has to ask the question that's been on his mind ever since.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Good, the Bad, and the Life in Between [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858354
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	the easiest thing in the world

**Author's Note:**

> This takes places sometime between S03E16 'The Southern Raiders' and S03E18 'Sozin's Comet Part 1: The Phoenix King'.
> 
> The majority of this (~1000 of the 1513 words) was written for a personal 1-hour writing challenge.

_“Patriots always talk of dying for their country and never of killing for their country.”_ – _Bertrand Russell_

-[-]-

It was such a simple question. It was a miracle he hadn’t thought about it more. He thought he’d been ready on the Day of Black Sun; there had been no question in his mind. None at all. But he _hadn’t_ been ready, had he? If he was still agonizing over the question, then…he really _hadn’t_ been ready.

_What are you gonna do when you face my father?_

In that moment, Aang had somehow known what Zuko was asking. What he was _really_ asking. He and Katara had gone looking to kill the man who’d killed Katara’s mother. Aang had tried his best to talk them out of it, to get Katara to _forgive_ the man. He’d won that battle, in a way; Katara hadn’t forgiven him, but he was alive.

But _Ozai_? Forgiveness wouldn’t work. Or maybe it would. But would Ozai give him the chance? Or was there some other route he could take? Could he somehow trap him? But what then? What would he do? He couldn’t just leave him there. Maybe he could, but he didn’t _want_ to.

Zuko hadn’t meant for him to go into a tailspin. But just the thought, the _idea_ that he might have to take another life…it chills him to his _bones_.

Doing that would be breaking his people’s most sacred tenet. And he was the last one. If he were to break that, if he were to go against the teachings ingrained in him since a childhood…then the Air Nomads really _would_ be dead.

There’s a knock on the tree behind him, and he sighs. He’d come here – down to the beach, away from the others – to think. To be _alone_ so he could sort through his thoughts.

“Don’t really want to talk right now, Katara,” he says. It had to be her. He’s closest to her, after all.

“Not Katara, and I don’t want to talk.” His ears perk up because that is _not_ her voice. It’s _Zuko’s_.

When he turns, the older boy lifts a big, clay bottle, gives it a little shake; Aang can hear some sort of liquid sloshing around inside it. After a moment, Aang shrugs and turns to look back at the ocean, at the waves crashing against the beach. He wraps his arms around his knees, tucks them into his chest as Zuko sits down next to him.

He looks into the cup, swirls the liquid around. It smells…fruity, he thinks, is probably the right word for it. He clinks his cup against Zuko’s, then takes a small sip.

He feels his eyes bug out as his tongue and throat suddenly ignite with a sharp, staggering burn. He spits, splutters at the raging fire in his mouth.

“ _Monkeyfeathers_ ,” he coughs.” What the fuck is that?”

Zuko just chuckles, drinks his like its water.” Umeshu. It’s a plum wine.” After a beat, his expression sours, and he amends,” _Old_ umeshu.”

Aang bangs on his chest with his fist, coughs out,” You know Katara would kill you if she knew you were giving me this.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” the firebender shrugs, taking another sip of his drink.” She’ll kill _you_ if I tell her you used a no-no word.” Aang chuckles. He’s right, she would, and that means Zuko has leverage over him. Not that Zuko would ever use it.

Zuko’s earlier words ring true because that’s the last thing he says. He just sips on his umeshu, looks out to the sea, at the stars and the moon rising gently above the waves. Aang is content with that. He’s content to stare at the ocean. Any other day, he loves it all – the breeze on his skin, the moonlight glinting off the water, the quiet calls of birds at night, the slowly dissipating warmth of the sand under him. Any other day, he would love it.

Now, though, it just feels like the world is mocking him in. And even if he’s enjoying the silence, there’s a question, one that he can’t help but ask.

“Zuko,” he mumbles,” at the dock…did you…did you mean what I think you did?”

Zuko hesitates, tenses before he speaks,” Probably.”

His chest constricts, and he can’t say anything. He’d known that was the answer, he’d known, and asked anyways. The answer shouldn’t hurt him as much as it does.

“I…just want you to be ready. Just in case,” Zuko continues.” If you…if you _can_ find another way, I want you to do it.”

Aang can’t really see him in the night, not even this close, but he imagines that Zuko is looking far away, farther, even, than just at the ocean. At something only he can see.

“Have you…have you ever…” Aang falters. He can’t ask the question. He can’t bring himself to actually speak the words. _Come on_ , he admonishes himself, _you might have to do it, you should be grown up enough to say it!_

It doesn’t help.

There’s a long, silent beat. It seems to stretch forever and ever, and Aang thinks he knows what that means.

“I was fifteen.” Zuko’s voice, rather than its usual strong, gravelly rasp, is quiet and weak.

Aang can’t believe it. He…that’s just…it’s so _young_.

“Fifteen,” he breathes. Even saying it, he still can’t believe it. Not really. He doesn’t want to. How could someone do that?

He sees Zuko nod out of the corner of his eye. It’s slow. Too slow. He doesn’t want to know what happened, he _doesn’t_ , but Zuko presses on.” It was so fast, I…I still almost don’t believe it happened. This guy popped out of a doorway, and he was going for Jiang with a _chuí_ , and I…one moment he was alive, and the next there was a tanto in his chest.”

Aang gulps as Zuko looks at him. His eyes are intense, piercing, and there’s something in them he can’t quite name. It’s like…like a strange sadness. Almost like Zuko has mourned, is _still_ mourning, the person he used to be. But…but that can’t be true. Because Zuko was good now.

So how could he miss someone who was bad?

“You don’t think you’re able to do it, until you do,” Zuko whispers.

“But…but how? How can you do it? Isn’t it hard?” Aang blurts out. It has to be. It _has_ to be. It can’t be that easy, it just…that’s _impossible_.

“No,” he replies almost instantly.” It’s the _easiest_ thing in the world.”

But after a moment, he mumbles, in a voice somehow even smaller,” And it’s the hardest.”

That…that makes no sense. None at all. How can something be easy, _and_ hard? It’s always just one or the other, right? But he’s so certain, Aang can see it in his face, in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Zuko lets out a deep sigh, takes a long drink of the umeshu, straight from the bottle. Aang has no idea how - the stuff is so _sour_ , so strong. Then again, he’s eavesdropped on plenty of the nights Zuko and Sokka have stayed up. He knows they get up to _something_. Maybe it’s drinking.

“Taking a life,” he explains slowly,” is something that’s easy to _do_. There are so many ways, and so many are just so…effortless. And a lot of the time, you don’t even realize what’s happening. But…” He trails off, like he’s afraid. That’s weird – _really_ weird. Zuko is many things, but _afraid_? Truly _afraid_? Aang has never once seen that. Not against Combustion Man, against the dragons, against Azula.

That Zuko is afraid now – that _truly_ scares _him_.

“But…” Aang prods. He thinks he knows what he’s about to say. He knows, and he’s dreading it.

“…but afterwards, it’s like…like everything changes, and nothing does,” Zuko whispers.” It’s like you’re living a nightmare. You don’t think you’re you, you’re just this… _twisted_ version of yourself, the kind you only see in a mirror. But then you have to wake up, and you’re still _you_.”

He can’t take it.

Aang swallows, runs a hand over his head. He doesn’t…he doesn’t want to do it. He _can’t_. He hears Zuko pour another cup, feels him pry his fingers from where they’re locked against his knee and press the cup into his hand. He picks his head up and drains it, forcing himself to ignore the burn, to ignore the sour taste, to ignore it all.

His vision swims and there’s a strange, sickly feeling in his gut, but he’ll take that over…over the _dread_.

He looks back up at Zuko. He can feel the tears pricking at his eyes, can feel a few running down his cheeks. He opens his arms, and at Zuko’s nod practically flings himself at the older boy, wrapping himself up against his side.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Aang chokes out a sob.” I don’t…I just don’t know.”

“That’s okay, Aang,” Zuko whispers, rubbing his back.” That’s a good answer.”

It doesn’t help.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully that was...alright. Writing Aang was a challenge, and I'm not entirely sure I got it down, but that's the reason we do difficult things, isn't it? To challenge ourselves and learn?
> 
> This fic was inspired by [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-6Qj3n_NtA) from HBO's _Chernobyl_ miniseries. If you haven't watched it, I highly recommend it. It's not completely historically accurate, but it is fantastically made and does, I think, pretty good justice to the scientists, soldiers, firefighters, and liquidators who fought tirelessly against an invisible enemy.
> 
> A _chuí_ is a medieval Chinese melee weapon, essentially a mace - a solid metal sphere on top of a medium-length handle. _Umeshu_ is a Chinese plum wine with a relatively low strength (alcohol content generally around 10-15%).
> 
> Feel free to leave comments or kudos if you enjoyed! I can also be found on [Tumblr](https://krastbannert.tumblr.com/) sharing thoughts (and some complaints) about writing and life.


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